


Being Seen For the First Time

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Series: The Hunter and the Wolf [3]
Category: Fright Night (2011), Underworld (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of self-harm, Peter has anxieties about being in a real relationship, mentions of a past suicide attempt, mentions of depression and drug abuse, post first time sex fic, post sex fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Peter isn't used to the people he has sex with seeing him, really seeing him, and he isn't quite sure he enjoys being seen.
Relationships: Lucian (Underworld)/Peter Vincent
Series: The Hunter and the Wolf [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660111
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Being Seen For the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like it's been decades since I've written anything about these two, apologies for that, and a massive thank you to everybody who reads and leaves kudos and/or comments on these fics that I write. I really never imagined there would be a ever growing audience for this ship, but I'm seriously glad that there is.

Sex was easy, it was what came afterwards that was difficult. Normally it wasn’t; on a normal day Peter’s lover of the night would quickly dress while he found himself reaching for the bottle just to occupy himself while they prattled on about how they should do this again before leaving his flat. He would spend an hour laying wherever he was left thinking and not thinking, drinking, getting high, dragging himself into the bathroom to take a long bath, occasionally suffer an emotional breakdown in the bath, and then get on with the rest of his night. He could cope with the loneliness of what came after drunken passion, what he couldn’t handle he realized was the person staying.

It hadn’t been something he thought about when he’d told Lucian that he was in love with him, it wasn’t something he’d thought about an hour or even a minute ago, but now they lay in bed facing each other and he couldn’t escape it. He couldn’t escape deep blue eyes watching him, a warm hand with calloused fingers rubbing down his arm, those fingers with purpose grazing over old track marks and faded bites from vampires, if he made it to his wrists he’d feel the attempt to end his teenage anguish. It wasn’t like Peter was the only one with scars, he’d grazed his fingers against rough thick lines on Lucian’s back for just a moment before his hand had been guided away from that area, a simple soft plea of ‘don’t’ whispered against his lips. He reached out placing a hand against his cheek his thumb brushing against his skin, Lucian turned his head to press a kiss against the palm of his hand.

It scared him being exposed in front of somebody who was looking at him, nobody looked at him, not really. They saw him, they admired him, and lusted after him for a moment. They never looked at him in the dimness of a bedroom or the light of morning, they never looked at the haunted look in his eyes under the bright lights of a bathroom. They saw what they wanted from him, from his body, from his mouth. This wasn’t that; he could call it fucking and being used and using all he wanted, but at the end of the day this was sex with somebody that he loved who loved him back possibly more than he could ever love them and that thought terrified him. It scared the shit out of him to see it, to feel it, to hear the intense breathy way he whispered ‘I love you’ against his skin while they’d had sex. He wanted to warn him he wasn’t sure he was capable of loving him that intensely, he wasn’t a wolf, and he wasn’t certain he could mate for life even if he were. He feared the downfall of this, of them; he feared the day he would irreparably ruin what had only just begun. Christ, they had barely started being together romantically and he was already planning on the million ways their relationship could crash and burn.

Lucian pulled him in kissing him slowly as if to shush his rapidly escalating anxious train of thinking. Peter was grateful for the momentary distraction as he tangled his fingers in thick long locks of hair. If they touched, if they were like this then he didn’t have to think, neither of them did. He shivered at the way fingers that were becoming familiar touched him, the gentle adoring way he touched along his scars as if he’d already committed them to memory, committed him to his memory. It was a moment like this where he realized Lucian would live long after he himself died, this was all just a drop in the bucket of his life, of his relationships. He could almost laugh thinking that this man, this creature that lived for hundreds of years wanted to waste even a single year on a wretch like him. Yet here he was pressing him back into the mattress with his body pressed against his kissing him as if he feared he might never get another chance to do this. Peter could feel his worry about this, a worry so similar and different to his own; when and how this would end. 

He wanted to assure it would be quick, he doubted he’d live to be old; he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to be old especially now. He couldn’t imagine growing old while his boyfriend stayed forever youthful in appearance. He knew declining health would only make him a burden to an immortal being a depressing notch in his belt to have to watch him rot away like all humans were destined to do. He understood less and less why he wanted to waste a few years on him when he knew how it would end.

Lucian rested his forehead against his staring at him, Peter brushed his fingers along the back of his neck down along his shoulders minding the scars he knew were on his back that he wanted to inquire about, but if he asked then he’d have to share about his own and he really wasn’t in the mood for that, not quite yet. 

“I love you,” he whispered before kissing him again and God could he feel it when he kissed him.

It made his heart leap into his throat when he said those words, when he kissed him this way, and he wanted to call him an idiotic dog for thinking he was worth these looks and those words. He couldn’t bring himself to chastise, to draw that self-loathing born anger towards him. Instead he kissed back with the same hungry desperate passion, moaned when he felt sharpened teeth bite against his bottom lip. There was a comfort and a thrill by seeing the bits and pieces of who and what he really was break through the façade of a man. He knew perhaps it should bother him, anger him even, but it didn’t. For the first time in his life he was embracing the supernatural instead of running from it. 

“I love you too” He told him as he kissed down along his neck, he wanted to worship him, he wanted to show him with touches that he loved him just as deeply or as deeply as somebody like him could ever love.

No, he could never love as deeply as a wolf, could never love as deeply as a being who lived for hundreds of years. He wanted to learn to, wanted to dedicate the time to it, to stop being afraid and embracing what could exist between them if he could just keep himself steady. There was a determination to learn him, to understand, and to care. The thought of going back to before how things were terrified him just as much as loving and being seen, he couldn’t imagine mornings and nights without a familiar wanted body in his bed.


End file.
